A Toast To This Feeling, Whatever It Is
by TheAluminumDruid
Summary: The untold story of Draco & Hermione. Covert tutoring sessions, close calls, and awkwardness abound as this warped duo dodges friends, enemies, teachers, the Prefects, and the Squad in an attempt to find something to love. This tale requires patience.
1. What I Did On My Summer Vacation, Part 1

Um…yo. This is my first posted fic, so I'm making all the newbie mistakes, I 'spose. Read and review in detail, as that is most helpful. Thankies in advance.

I think I'm supposed to disclaim: I don't own any of these characters or concepts. JK Rowling does. Coincidentally, she also owns part of my soul.

Oh, and sorry for the bite size chapters. They'll get longer, I swear. And I also apologize if this keeps coming on then going off. I'm working out how to format posts and it's not going as expected (I use MS Word, if you have any tips).

Chapter 1: What I Did On My Summer Vacation, Part 1

Somewhere in Bulgaria, after the end of _Harry__ Potter and the Goblet of Fire._

_A train ride, a pissed kitty, a family crest, two suitcases, one shiny spell. __A kiss and one forever._

Hermione sat on the train, playing nervously with her beaded purse. It felt so light after carrying around the weight of her overloaded book bag all year. She was almost there, and she couldn't wait.

Three days ago, she had received a letter from Viktor Krum, inviting her to his family's estate for his parents' annual two-week gathering of friends and family. She and her mother had twittered excitedly like school-girls, and though Hermione was one, it was rather exceptional for her to partake in that sort of behavior (mostly because her thought process includes words like 'partake'). However, she was willing to make the exception. Viktor had that effect on her. After a solid day of needling, the Hermione and her mom had managed to convince Mr. Granger to let his daughter go visit her 'boyfriend', a label which, despite the mother-daughter twittering, resulted in quite a few eye-rollings, head-tossings, and 'just friends' type assertions from Hermione.

In any event, she was now on her way to see him. _Viktor._ She closed her eyes for a brief moment to mentally picture him. Her cheeks flushed, as the prospect of behaving this way around Harry, God forbid _Ron_, crossed her mind, causing thorough inner mortification.

The train began to slow, and her stomach began to do back-flips. When the train ground to a halt, it launched into an entire gymnastics routine. She was _excited_. Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and she peered out the window. Bulgaria, at first, seemed gray and unwelcoming. But her heart warmed the instant she saw Viktor standing on the platform, staring expectantly at the train. She jumped up, and Crookshanks fell off her lap with a hiss. She hurriedly jammed him into his basket, further pissing off the flailing animal. She yanked her luggage from the rack and managed to shove herself, the rattling cat basket, and two rather substantial suitcases out of the train and onto the platform. Seeing her, Viktor marched hurriedly to meet her.

"Hermy-own-ninny," he grunted smilingly, and wrapped her in an enormous hug. She promptly dropped the luggage, cat and all, to the ground, in order to squeeze him back. _Sigh._

After a few moments, and one or two 'aw's from passersby, other passengers queued at the exit, and began to mutter at this couple blocking their way. Viktor let her go, grabbed her bags, and shuffled sideways to let the others pass. Once they were out of the way, he let her bags down with a grunt. "Oof. Hermy-own-ninny, what is in these? Bricks?"She laughed. "No, books. And clothes and the like."

"I was inviting you to stay for two weeks, but you are thinking forever, perhaps?" he asked, a touch to seriously, but Hermione had the good grace to laugh it off and playfully explain, "no, no, silly. That is just what teenage girls do; we pack entirely too many things. I'd lighten it magically, but I'm not allowed."

"It is alright," he assured her. "I can. I am graduated now, remember?" She nodded. "_Wingardium leviosa!_" He said it perfectly, with just the right swish and flick. Hermione was taken slightly aback by the display, as he had never let on before that he was any good at spell casting.

"Wow," she said, a little breathlessly. "I have been practicing," he informed her, "for you." He winked. She melted.

They walked on, apparently out of an all-wizard station, to a small parking lot populated by Muggle cars sporting Quidditch stickers, family sets of broom sticks, and magic carpets. Krum stopped before a Bentley. Hermione had been a Muggle, and an observant one at that, long enough to know that this was a _nice_ car. Viktor loaded her cases into the trunk and stuck Crookshanks' still-rattling carrier into the backseat. Then, he opened the passenger door and helped Hermione into her seat in an extremely gentlemanly way. He settled into the driver's seat, and they drove off through the countryside. They chatted lightly, and gave each other sidelong smiles. At one point, they held hands.

After an hour and a half, they drove up a long driveway in front of an extremely lavish, large house. It was really more of a castle than a house, as it reached up four stories, and even had buttresses. Krum parked the car and turned off the engine, but did not move to get out. Instead, he turned to Hermione and said, "like I have told you, we will have many families at this gathering. But also, we host families who are old friends, one which might be familiar; the Parking-sons? I think you know the girl, Pansy?" Hermione's mood dropped, but she tried to keep it off her face. It didn't work. However, Viktor nodded in sympathetic agreement. He continued. "There is one I'm sure you know, and do not like so much, the Malfoys?" He cringed slightly, in expectation of an outburst, but she didn't give that. No, far worse, her face morphed completely from disgruntled to worried to terrified. Krum tried to calm and convince her. "Come Hermy, I know Draco is very, very annoying, but surely you can come over that for just two weeks? What was it that your headmaster spoke of, friendship and cooperation? Think of it as that." She remained wide-eyed and silent, and wasn't until her leaned in to give her an embrace of comfort that she broke out of it.

"Wait. Stop," she said, holding up her hands to prevent his hug. "I don't think you understand. The Malfoys are more than annoying. They're dangerous." Her thoughts were on Harry's description of the Death Eaters gathered in the graveyard. The thought of sharing a house with one for even an hour made her shudder with fear."I think I know what it is you mean. But I can assure you, there will be none of that here. You are safe." With that, Viktor climbed out of the car and began to walk toward the house. Hermione jumped out quickly to catch up to him, but his stride was so long that she had to run. She grabbed his arm as he reached for the handle on the door. She pulled him, harder than he expected her to be able to, to face her. "Viktor, wait, this is _serious_," she said, glaring at him with that very Hermion-y look in her eyes, one of determination to prove she was right. "Don't you remember that I am Muggle-born?"

"Yes, Hermy-own-ninny, I remember," he replied with a sigh and an eye-roll."Have you never been told what it is that Death Eaters, _like the Malfoys_, like to do to Muggle-borns?" she demanded obstinately."Yes, I know," he answered, slightly more irate.

"Listen to me! You are perfectly safe here. Do you want to know why?" He pointed up to the door. Stained onto the oak was an emblem that was obviously the Krum family crest: a circle, surrounding a shield, on which were two hands, drawn palms open, and a sword snapped beneath them. In the bottom of the circle was written _quietus_, Latin for 'neutrality'. "We are neutral to any conflict," he explained. "We may be pureblood, but back through those generations is also a tradition of keeping our nose out. We do not care for it, fighting." She nodded, but not without looking like she was about to ask lots of questions. He headed her off. "There are spells on this castle to block all harm from it, and to prevent harm between its guests. Fight-proof, you could say. Many famous peace talks have been held here," he informed her.

Again, Hermione remained clearly skeptical, so Krum hurriedly said, "but I will add more for you." Much to her bewilderment, he abruptly took her hand in his. With his other, he took his wand, circled it above their heads slowly, and chanted. The air surrounding them glowed and sparkled slightly, like they were in a golden tube. After three repetitions of the chant, he put his wand away. "Now do that, Hermione." Against her very best judgment, but according to her quick thinking, Hermione raised her wand and mimicked him, stumbling slightly with the chant. When she finish, he kissed her cheek and the shininess fizzled out of the air.

"What was _THAT?!_" Hermione demanded impatiently. She really, really disliked mystery spells, especially ones done to her."A protection spell," Krum answered, with an air of 'ha, I know something you didn't'. "We are binded now." Hermione winced at the grammar, but was too curious to stop him about it. "As long as I am safe," he continued to explain, "you are safe."It was not in Hermione's nature to trust implicitly. But for his gorgeous eyes and safe embrace, the 15-year-old was willing to make an exception for him. Again."Now, will you please stay?" he asked, offering her the crook of his arm. "Yes," she conceded, with a great deal of exasperation. She huffed a great sigh and took his arm."Good. Now, let me show you around."


	2. What I Did On My Summer Vacation, Part 2

Hey look I did it! This one picks up the second after the first one. :D

Sorry, this one's a real shorty. Ch. 3 is immediately forthcoming, so have patience for all of 15 minutes

I don't own anything 'cept the plot, JK Rowling owns everything, including but not limited to the characters, the concepts, and my soul.

Review me and I will do my best to share the love and criticism.

Chapter 2: What I Did On My Summer Vacation, Part 2

The Krum Family Manor

_Giant halls, lots of room...and roo__m__mates. Get this poor girl _out of here.

Krum, with visible effort, pulled open the heavy front door, and Hermione slipped in. He followed, passed her luggage off to a butler, and took her hand. She was gaping at the entrance hall. It was on par with Hogwarts, soaring to four stories at the height of the ceiling, which was hung with enchanted, shimmering blue, gold, and maroon banners. On each, silver or black letters glinted a welcome to the guests that would be staying: "Welcome Mikeal and Gladys!" and "Welcome Malfoys, Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco". Her stomach tossed at that one. A few flags over, she saw one bearing, "Welcome Hermione." She smiled at Viktor, and her look said, "for me?" He nodded, and her face lit up.

He walked her to the left, toward a massive pair of double doors, decorated with large stained-glass mosaics. "This is the left ving," he narrated for her. "This is where the children and teenagers vill be staying, and vhere your room is." She reached up to six feet and touched the gigantic wrought-iron handles, and looked puzzled at him. He stepped around her, to the center of the right door, and opened a smaller door, so short they both had to duck through it.

"This place vos built by giants, so things are a little...ofer-size" he explained. Hermione hardly had awe left in her brain to take that fact in; she was too busy staring around the huge hall he had just walked her into. It, like the entrance hall, stretched up 4 stories. It reached out at least 100 yards, to another set of massive doors decorated with glass, through which the setting sun glittered, throwing colored light to the floor. To the left, the wall was lined with two-story mullioned windows. To the right, 4 stories of rooms were seen, like looking at the outside of a motel. He led her to the stair case, and they ascended three levels. She stopped before continuing down the hall, and leaned against the railing, looking at the hall below her, still in wonder. _People really live like this, don't they?_ Krum pulled her, and they continued to a room toward the end. It was simply, but elegantly furnished, a lot like her Hogwarts dorm, except in green, gold, and off-white: a four poster, a desk, a bedside table with an old fashioned pitcher and basin. Her suitcases were even placed at the end of her bed, like her trunk would have been."Look around some on your own if you want. I haf to go see my parents. Dinner is at five," he told her, smiling at her appreciation of his home. "No need to dress up." He kissed the top of her head and left.

She walked slowly around the room, then through the second door in the corner. It led into a simple tiled bathroom, and itself had another door that led to a second adjoining room.She looked around the rest of the hall, then the other three floors. There were other bed rooms, playrooms, and a library. There was even a small kitchen, manned by a very intelligent house-elf. Hermione's heart nearly broke, but she was able to put it on the back burner to focus on this awesome house.

When her watch read 4:30, she walked back to her room. She went into the bathroom to wash up, and entered at the exact moment someone else did: Pansy Parkinson.Both girls looked horrified, but tried to recover. "Granger," Pansy said stiffly, fixing Hermione with what she probably thought was an unsettling stare; it was really more of a petty snarl. Hermione tried to keep her cool, and nodded politely at her. "Pansy."

"Were you going to..." Pansy said awkwardly, clearly meaning "no you weren't."

Hermione got the hint, "no, you first." She backed out, and shut the door. Leaning against it, she raked her fingers through her hair and sighed quietly. "It is going to be a _long_ two weeks."


	3. What I Did On My Summer Vacation, Part 3

See, I told you. You turn around and BAM--new chapter. This one is a little longer and really really concerned with description. So if you like adjectives a lot, read it all. Honestly though, the 7th paragraph and the last 3 are the most important.

(Do I disclaim each chapter?) JK Rowling owns the characters and the magic, but I'm currently suing for custody of my soul.

Review if you like, if you love it, if it makes you violently ill--you know, whatever. Thanks.

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Chapter 3: What I Did on My Summer Vacation, Part 3

Still at the Manor

_A dinner that gets way too fancy, a pitiful girl, and a glint of metal_

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Hermione ducked through the short door out the left wing nearly a full hour after Pansy had taken over the bathroom. The brat had taken over 45 minutes "washing up," leaving Hermione late and very disgruntled. She had only bothered to pull her hair into a standard half ponytail, roll on deodorant, and wash her face. However, judging by the twenty-odd open make-up containers, and the stench of hair spray and flowery perfume, Pansy had taken her dear sweet time getting extremely done up, leaving Hermione late.

She dashed through the empty entrance hall, and to the entrance to the dining hall she found earlier. She assumed as she ducked through the small door that she was very late. However, the hall was empty. The only people she saw were a few house-elves scurrying around, and Viktor at the end of a huge table, talking with an elderly man and a young woman. She walked quickly to his side, worried. "Did I miss dinner?" she asked with nervous exclamation in her tone. He chuckled. "No, Hermy-own-ninny, you are early."

"What?" The clock read 5:25. "Dinner was supposed to start nearly half an hour ago, right?"

"Not really," he replied. "With these people," he continued, leaning in and lowering his voice, "they all love to be fashionably late. They're due in about 5 minutes." He laughed his low laugh. "Now I must introduce to my father, Nikolas Krum," he said nodding to the gentleman, "and one of my sisters, Ivanna Krum. This is Hermy-own-ninny Granger." Hermione, who was quite overcome with relief that she was not late, genially shook hands with each person.

"Viktor has told us much about you, Miss Granger," said Mr. Krum in a booming baritone, with a kindly smile. He was a stout, but compact and powerful looking man, one you would definitely desire to be friends with, for it appeared any other option may result in pain. However, he was not frightening to Hermione. Ivanna was not in possession of the rounded, heavy features of her male relatives but instead was tall, blond, bird-like, and incredibly fashionable. She instantly managed to make Hermione feel a little lower in class, not through haughtiness, just from standing there, being couture and statuesque.

Viktor showed Hermione to her seat at the end of the long side of the table. He sat for a moment on the chair catty-corner to her on the short side. Their knees brushed accidentally under the table, and she was forced to turn her head a blush when he laughed. They exchanged some small talk about what Hermione had discovered about the castle, and then, as predicted, the other guests began pouring in at 5:30. Krum excused himself and began to make rounds of the room, greeting friends and family as a dutiful host's son would do. Hermione sat in her seat, feeling alone and uncomfortable, left with nothing to do but look around the hall.

Her survey of the room made her no more comfortable. The only thing making her feel remotely at ease was the familiar size of it. The heights reached by the soaring rafters of the cathedral-esque ceiling made her feel like she was back at Hogwarts. A little. However, nothing else did.Nothing about the hall was plain or simple, like the Great Hall at school. The floor was marble of excellent quality, as was the table top. The illustrations on the stone walls were obviously painstakingly hand-chiseled, and the rafters were carved into ornate patterns. The plate glittered and the chairs glinted with the gilt fibers woven into the already intricate brocade. There were at least ten utensils at each place (she counted) and the cups, nay, goblets, were inset with precious stones.This all, however, didn't do nearly as much to discomfort Hermione as the guests. They made the fine hall almost pale in comparison to their dress. Hermione had never been one for fashion but she knew that that was definitely something on the minds of everyone else. She was positive that were all wearing the top shelf designer clothes. The dress robes on the men looked to be made of the finest materials, and were perfectly tailored. Women wore stunning summer dresses or skirt-and-blouse ensembles, all were in the most uncomfortable-looking and beautiful shoes that Hermione had ever seen. Even the nannies and the small children they carried or walked into the room were dressed to the nines. What was troubling was that she also sensed that this was their 'casual'. She looked down at her outfit, and felt woefully inadequate. It was simple, not dressed up, like Viktor had said: khakis, brown penny-loafers, an un-tucked dress shirt, and a gold locket her mum had loaned her. But it made her feel like she had chosen jeans and a t-shirt, as she wont to do at school during out-of-uniform time.

It became apparent, though, that Hermione had successfully managed to out-dress one person: Pansy. She had actually elected to wear jeans and, well a tube-top, not a t-shirt, and it was not working well for her. Slapping along in brown foam flip flops, with her jeans riding way too low, her brown tube-top with "Pep Squad: 8" written in white varsity lettering on it squeezing far too tight in all the wrong places, and her hair positively stationary under a helmet of hairspray, Pansy looked very out-of-place. Her mother went constantly between scowling at her and looking away, possibly hoping that if she ignored her daughter, she would go away or no one would notice her. Her father seemed oblivious. Eventually, after they sat for a few awkward moments, her mother got that 'fed up' look on her face, and pulled off her own very stylish blazer and set it on Pansy's shoulders furiously, and hissed something in her daughter's ear. Judging by Pansy's pained look, it wasn't very nice. She then sat up, straightened the fashionable top she had been wearing under the blazer, and then beamed around at everyone else as if nothing had just happened. And everyone seemed to go along with it.Hermione's heart was moved with pity for Pansy, who was now desperately staring at Draco, who didn't give her any attention at all. _This is how her life is?_ wondered Hermione, and gave her a sympathetic look. But when Pansy turned in her direction, she gave Hermione a rather nasty snarl and mouth 'what are you looking at?' that made all of Hermione's kind feeling toward the girl fly away. In its place came back the memory of four years of unkind treatment, and most recently, an attention-seeking 'exposé' on how Hermione brewed up love potions. _She could use a swift kick in the behind more than pity_ she thought as she frowned back.

Then Mr. Krum made an extremely gracious welcoming speech, and the feast began. The empty services filled up magically with food, as at Hogwarts, and, as Hermione was accustomed to, everyone tucked in. They did not however, do so in the style of the Gryffindor boys, and sometimes girls, a style which resembled more of a feeding frenzy than a civilized meal. These people where almost sterile in the way they handled their food, the ladies eating the smallest, daintiest bites imaginable and the men tucking their napkins into their collars. It was nice at first, but it got a bit annoying. The theme of the meal seemed to be American fare, as the trays suddenly were laden with burgers, fries, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and other US favorites. Hermione could swear she even smelled American-style pizza. Most of this was finger food, right? Not to everyone there. With the glittering forks and knives, most of them carefully sawed apart perfectly hand-ready food into tiny pieces that they delicately forked into their mouths on perfect cue. It was sort of like a dance routine; an annoying, stuffy dance routine. Only the teenagers seemed to get it, as did the host family, all of whom were handling there hamburgers and fries with their fingers. Mr. Krum looked slightly disappointed; Hermoine gathered that the food was intended to relax everyone, and yet all of the adults, and young children, remained reserved and postured. He shrugged, and the meal continued.

First, before she ate, Hermione was introduced to the other members of the Krum family; Viktor's three older brothers, all of which had the same features as their father, Viktor's other sister, who looked like an even mix of her parents, and their mother, from whom Ivanna obviously got her looks. Then Hermione proceeded to eat slowly, looking around the table at the other guests. There were more potentially dangerous families than Krum had let on: the Crabbes and Goyles next to the Malfoys, a woman she knew from the _Daily Prophet_ to be an aunt of Augustus Rookwood, and her two daughters, and even McNair, and his wife (or was it his cousin? They looked weirdly similar). As she realized this, Hermione's heart began to race. She only continued looking around while everyone was preoccupied with their meals; as heads started coming up, for conversation, she kept hers down, or turned to talk with Viktor. She looked around only twice, and the second time she saw Pansy get up with a great huff, and stalk out of the room, eyes full of tears. Her mother looked mortified.After dessert, which consisted of a selection of every imaginable ice cream, Hermione faked tired and asked Viktor to walk her back to her room. He was not put off by her odd behavior; "after all, you haf traveled so much" was the reason he supplied for her. He escorted her back and kissed her good night, telling her the time for breakfast the next morning. Hermione closed the door quickly behind her and locked it. _Thank goodness it locks,_ she thought with relief. She went into the bathroom, only to find it was occupied by Pansy. Only she wasn't using it; she was sitting in the bath tub, fully clothed, crying. When she turned to see who had entered, Hermione saw that her mascara had run quite badly; she honestly looked sort of frightening. But, once again, Hermione couldn't just ignore her; she had obviously been crying for a good hour alone, and emotional pain like that should be seen to, no matter how annoying the person is. She heaved a sigh and sad down on the closed toilet and asked "what's wrong, Pansy?" It wasn't a particularly caring tone that she used, but it was the best she could do, considering.Pansy only returned this with a scowl, so Hermione tried again. Only this time, Pansy spat back venomously "nothing _you_ would understand, Mudblood."

Hermione bristled immediately. "Fine, then stop whining about it."

"Piss off."

"I need to use the bathroom for actual purpose, not sitting around crying. And this purpose, at least in the Muggle realm, is something requiring privacy. So, you leave, Pansy." She stood up and opened the door connecting the bathroom to Pansy's room, and made the 'out' gesture. Pansy heaved herself out of the tub, yanking down the sleeves of her fluffy-sheep-patterned pajamas over her hands. Hermione thought she saw something metallic glint. Her eyes widened as she watched Pansy go, but she hardened her jaw, for show, and slammed the door behind her. When that door was bolted, Hermione rushed over to the bath to check for blood. She thought she saw a red spot on the drain, but it was only the reflection of a tube of lipstick halfway over the side of the sink. _Must have been a ring or something in her hand then,_ she reasoned, and went on with her nightly routine.However, later that night, as Hermione lay sleeplessly in bed petting Crookshanks, she heard Pansy's bathroom door open and saw the bathroom light come on. And she could swear she heard soften crying, then a small yelp, then water from the tap, washing _something_ down the sink.


	4. I Hate You, Summer Vacation

Thank you for holding on for three chapters of my prattle. In this one, STUFF ACTUALLY HAPPENS! And as a symbol of this, there is even a title change up. Woot!

Thanks in advance for the criticism.

I own nothing and I never will.

Enjoy, me hearties.

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Chapter 4: I Hate You, Summer Vacation

The Manor

_Eggs on toast, PDA, the Malfoys, and leaving._

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Hermione woke up around nine the next morning, and immediately began cursing at herself for sleeping so late. However, as she brushed her teeth and combed her hair, she heard Pansy's locomotive snoring, and thought _once again, I outdo Parkinson_. Also, as she went to the kitchen in the children's wing for toast and eggs, she noticed the castle seemed very still. _Am I early again?_ She had set about frying an egg on the small stove when she became aware of the fact that light laughter floated through the slightly-open kitchen window. She opened it further and peered out. Past a small shrub in the way of her view, she saw that there were people out in a man-made lake about 100 yards away from the castle. There were a lot of people, actually; the nannies and young children splashing in the water; the preteen girls sitting around gossiping, the preteen boys challenging each other to races and skipping rocks; the teenagers in several smaller, mixed clusters, sitting on the stones around the edge of the pond; the mothers and older women sunning themselves in comfy deck chairs.

Interested to see if Viktor was out there, or maybe someone friendly that she hadn't met last night, she slid the fried egg between her toast pieces to make a sandwich, grabbed a napkin, and left the kitchen. She patted her pocket to double check her wand, then went to the far end of the wing, through a smaller door next the two double doors, and out into the sunshine. She turned right and walked up to the lake. Seeing Viktor, she waved, and he waved back. She rushed to sit down next to him, not realizing that she had just sat herself down with not only her boyfriend, but Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and some random red-head. Her stomach dropped, and I can tell you, it wasn't because of Viktor or the red-head. "'Morning all," she said stiffly. She ducked her head and munched her toast. Her stomach knotted, and in a very Ron-like fashion, her ears reddened. _Wait, what am I doing? I'm not ashamed to eat around these people_, and she picked up her head, just in time to see a) Crabbe pantomiming to Malfoy, trying to mock Hermione's eating habits, and b) Pansy walk up to the group. Hermione rolled her eyes at Crabbe, and turned to Pansy. She tried to catch the girl's eye as she sidled next to Draco. When she succeeded, she gave her a sympathetic, questioning look, very kind in nature, to which Pansy responded with a snarl that read "I don't know what you're on about, but you're no friend of mine, quit staring at me." Hermione recoiled slightly, and looked at Viktor, who smiled at her. She inched closer to him, just as Malfoy and Pansy went into a rather embarrassing PDA. She heaved a disgusted sigh. She had a murmured and awkward conversation with Viktor and the red head, who turned out to be his cousin, whilst Crabbe and Goyle stared blankly at the ground (obviously, they were used to having to put up with this classless behavior). Eventually, Crabbe and Goyle wandered off, and the red head went to play with her younger brothers and sister, leaving Hermione and Krum alone with a still-snogging Malfoy and Pansy. Our heroine and her boy exchanged significant "let's get out of here" looks, and were just getting up to leave when the other two broke apart. "Anways, Viktor, as I was saying about my feint," Draco said, picking up a conversation they had obviously been having earlier. "It's more of a spiral movement than a dive, much more convincing..." He rambled on for another 5 minutes about a flying technique he seemed to have invented.

Hermione, who had never been interested in Quidditch, and glad that Draco's attention was not on embarrassing or intimidating her, took the time to take a further look at her surroundings. The lake, an oval of maybe 150 yards by 30, glimmered under the morning sun. Beyond that, the whole property was surrounded by a forest, like the one at school, only not quite so menacing. She liked the setting; it was very tranquil. Her eyes came back to rest on the people she sat with. First she watched Krum, who seemed thuroughly bored, to the point of annoyed, with whatever Malfoy was prattling on about. Next, her eyes rested on Pansy, and she felt another pang of sympathy for the girl, brought on by the way she was curled tightly against Malfoy, and how her eyes never left his face. _Poor desperate thing_ she thought vaguely, _hanging on to such a __prat__ like that_. Finally, she looked at Malfoy, who was too caught up in his own ego for the moment to notice. She thought on that, _he can be so stupid and ego-centric. Swear to God, if he notices you even looking at him..._ and a memory of accidentally catching his eye on the last day of school and getting the nastiest gesture from him triggered an unpleasant mental review of the past year. It was a full minute before she recognized that she was staring off into space, and unfortunately, she was rudely pulled from her reverie by Malfoy. "Oi, Mudblood!" he finally yelled, snapping his fingers in front of her face, whilst Pansy giggled. "Excuse me!" she shrieked, offended at the name and Malfoy's disrespect.

He laughed derisively. "Got your attention, didn't it?" She slapped his hand away from her face, as hard as she could. He was taken aback by her strike, but didn't take long to recover. "Temper, Granger." He turned to Viktor, and said in a mock conspiratory whisper, "I told, this one can get nasty, just lashes out, for no reason."

"You foul little toad!" she cried, standing up ."Watch what you say, Granger," he warned.

"Who are you to say that, Malfoy?" she screeched, mightly brassed off at this point.

"I mean that, do not, do NOT, believe for a second that you can insult me--"

"Or what?" she spat back.

Draco paused. Hermione seized her opportunity. "You'll call you father?" she laughed, thinking she had him cornered by bringing what she assumed would now be a touchy subject. "I've got a read on you and your father, Malfoy, and neither of you scare me a bit.""Don't we, Miss Granger," said someone from behind her.She turned slowly. She had heard that voice before, the one that sounded as ice-cold as it made her blood run, even on this warm summer day. _Oh no._Lucius Malfoy had walked silently up behind her, and she now faced him, trying to look calm. Her jaw twitched as she met his terrifying metallic eyes. She grimaced, calling up all her courage."One would think," he continued, now bending down slightly to bring his face to her level, "that you would have a good deal more reason to be frightened, at this point.""I have no idea why that would be, Mr. Malfoy," she said, with as much steel as possible. However, she felt she was endangering her life by speaking this way, she was so scared. "Excuse us."She turned away, and grabbed Viktor's arm. He looked thickly at her, having no real understanding of the situation. As subtly as she could, she began to steer him away from the Malfoys. "Viktor, I've got a very important question to ask you, about the library." He turned back to Draco. "But, Hermy-own-ninny, can't it vait for--" She cut him off. "Please Viktor, this is really pressing matter..." she was half-dragging him now. It took him at least 10 seconds to get the hint, by which time they were far enough away so that it didn't matter. She remained clutching his hand as they crunched over the grass and gravel back to the castle."Viktor," she said as a he opened the door for her, "did you not hear them?"

"I didn't think he was being serious, Herm--"

"--He was!" she cried, stunned that Viktor was either that oblivious or that naive. "I told you, he is either going to hurt me or kill me, probably both, if he can get the chance. I'm _Muggle-born_. He thinks I'm not fit to lick his boots, and he'd have no qualms about harming me if annoy him, which my very presence seems to do. He is very serious."

"Vell, Hermione, vat--"

"--take me home!" she exclaimed, cutting him off again. "That's what you were going to ask, right, what you can do. You can take me to the train station. I'm not safe here, I haven't been safe since the second I stepped through the door. I tried to tell you." He tried to stop her and calm her by place his hands on her shoulders gently, but would not be calmed. "Hermione, there is not danger here for you, there is no need for you to go anyvere."

"Yes, there is!" she cried back, sounding more and more hysterical by the moment. "I'm leaving, I'm going, tha--that's just it! And if you won't drive me, I'll Floo myself, and if can't Floo, I'll just walk." She whipped around, heading down the hall, leaving Krum standing mutely by the door. She stormed angrily to her room, and in a matter of only a few minutes, threw together her things and was back out in the hall. Krum was waiting at the front door. "I'm sorry," he said, and opened the door, and led her to his car.


	5. I Mean That, About Summer Vacation

Hey look, another chapter. It just occurred to me that this doesn't actually resemble a Dramione fic yet. Hehe…about that. It will be, I promise. Hang in there.

I don't own any of the characters or the book concepts and I never bloody will. :D

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Chapter 5: I Mean That, About Summer Vacation and All

_A letter from Dumbledore, a sick relative, a mission, and the kiss you've been waiting for..._

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Hermione sat on the train, bored once more. She was about 3 hours away from the station in France, where her parents would be picking her up. _Assuming they got my owl..._ The fact that they had not yet sent back the large barn owl she had sent with a letter to them from the train station's post room more than 6 hours ago bothered her, more than slightly. She knew that magical post owls were supposed to travel very fast when enchanted properly, which the postmaster at the station had done for her. _So it should be back by now..._ However, as she curled down into her maroon seat once more, she heard the telltale tap at the window. She looked up, but her hopes were dashed when she saw it was not the barn owl, but the little Pigwidgeon-like creature she had sent along to Dumbledore, to tell him what Mr. Malfoy had said, in case it was relevant.

She sighed and opened the window. The wind gusted in at a gale force, and knocked the poor little bird into the wall, and it dropped to the seat. She hurriedly slammed the window shut, then dove to scoop up the owl before Crookshanks, who had already decided that 'little owl''tasty snack', could pounce. She gave a bit of one of the cat's treats, and set it safely up on the luggage rack above her head to let it rest for a moment. Then, she settled back down to read the letter:

_Dear Miss Granger, _

Thank you very much for the information on the whereabouts of the Malfoys, McNairs, Crabbes, and Goyles. I trust you realize that since these families operate too frequently on the 'correct' side of the law, it is very difficult to come by any information on them, and as such, any word of their future whereabouts, their plans, even the slightest hint, is always useful.

To that end, Miss Granger, I must now ask you to undertake an assignment which you may not like, nor believe you are safe doing. I understand that the prospect sounds frightening, but you **must** return to the Krum estate. We have been especially trying to track down Lucius Malfoy, and now that we know where he is, the only way it seems possible and least conspicuous way to obtain more information on him is to send you back.

As I have said, I do realize that this seems like an unsafe venture, but I can assure you, you will not at any point be in any danger. Firstly, you are indeed safe among the Krums; they were very supportive of the anti-Death Eater movement in Bulgaria during He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's rise to power. Secondly, neither Parkinsons nor the Malfoys should give you any trouble. The Parkinsons are not known Death Eaters, and the Malfoys have always considered themselves above killing or injury, unless specifically instructed. Also, I have it on good authority that the McNairs and the Goyles are due back in London inside of two days. Thirdly, the spell of young Mister Krum's that you described is a very strong one, even if not performed by the most competent spell-caster. It is mostly powered by love and trust. Though it is none of my business, I'm sure that yours and his are quite sufficient.

There are also things you can do to add to your safety. Your assignment, as I have said, is to keep tabs on the Malfoys. This does not, however, mean that you are to do any lurking about in dark corners or peering through key holes; you should not have trouble coming to you, so please do not invite any. Simple attention to dinner conversation will be sufficient. Also, do not write your findings down, and do not bring this letter back with you.

I have taken the letter of intercepting your letter to your parents, which I assume contains a message about your return. If you are willing to this favor for me, I will destroy the letter, and if not, I will gladly forward the owl, adding a Speed Charm. Please owl me **immediately** whether or not you decide to accept this task.

Sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore 

Hermione sat back, stunned at the contents of the letter. _How dare Dumbledore stop my mail! Well, he said he'd forward it on if I owled back and said 'no.' Can I say no? I suppose...I'm only a child, I can't do spying work for him! And who's the 'we' in the letter? It can't be the Ministry, they think he's cracked..._

She messaged her temples, and reviewed the letter one last time. She tore off a corner, hastily scratched, _I accept, Professor Dumbledore._ She attached the letter to the bitty owl, who was now zooming about the compartment in a very Pig-like fashion, thoroughly annoying and bewildering Crookshanks. She let it fly out the window, still not sure she had sent the right answer.

Merely an hour later, the owl was back, looking ridiculously tired and carrying another letter.

_Dear Miss Granger, _

Allow me to first say that I am extraordinarily grateful to you for accepting this task.

Secondly, I have instructions, in case you are wondering how to quietly slip back into the estate. Firstly, do not exit the train when it returns to the station. Stay in your train compartment, and present the ticket I have enclosed to the conductor. I trust that you are clever enough to make up a reason for returning to Bulgaria, as well as one to tell when you get back to the castle.  
If you should feel the need to return sooner than you've been asked to stay, do not hesitate. If it is a true emergency, you have my full permission to Floo yourself, unaccompanied, to the Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, or the Weasley residence. Whenever your return occurs, owl me at once.

Keep your friends close, but, contrary to the old adage, keep your enemies only just as close. You need something from both, but only one can offer you protection and safety. Good luck.

Yours in gratitude,  
Albus Dumbledore 

Hermione sighed and sat back once more. 'Apprehensive' did not even begin to cover it.

_-----one week later-----_

Hermione sat at the dinner table once more, stirring her soup and trying to remain as still as possible so as to pick up snips or the conversation going on two chairs over, between Malfoy and McNair. Mostly, she just heard snatches, a lot of the words 'Mudblood,' 'gold,' 'minister,' and the phrase 'crackpot old fool.' She assumed they were talking about Hogwarts. Again. Spying and eavesdropping could be really boring.

Hermione had come back nearly a week ago, telling anyone who asked that she had rushed off to visit a sick relative, only to find that it was a misdiagnosed cold. Everyone now believed she had a family of hypocondriacs, which was annoying for a few days. Apparently, quite a few of these rich wives could sympathize with hypocondria, or were hypocondriacs, and were very keen to share all of the false information they had accumulated about colds. However, it meant she was able to shuffle her seat a dinner, and was well-known among the wives as the "clever little Muggle-born." Which in turn meant she was able to frequently overhear important conversations, but also meant she had to take in a lot of meaningless drabble. Which brought her back to the table. She tuned out of Malfoy's conversation and searched for a new one. _Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Parkinson...fashion. Mrs. Krum and Mrs. Crabbe...also fashion. Mrs. Rookwood...to herself. Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle...nothing. They are literally talking about the word 'nothing.' And these are He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's elite killers..._

She turned to Viktor, to catch his eye, but she couldn't. That had been happening a lot since she returned. He was confused by the weak reasons she had given for going and coming back, until she broke down and told him everything she could short of the whole truth. That only served to alienate him, because he truly did not get why spying on the Malfoys was important. In truth, neither did she. She knew that having tabs on dangerous killers was always handy, but she still didn't get why _she_ had to spy on _these_ particular murderers. A matter of a convenient situation had never been a reason for which Dumbledore asked a person to do something, or at least it was never the only reason.

Hermione looked back at her soup, then around at the table again. This time, she was watching people, not listening to them. Everyone was pretty merry this evening, probably because there was going to be dancing after dinner. They all looked more magnificent than usual. She also noticed that many people were downing large quantities of the evening's wine, people including Viktor, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. She had seen only one other person have one glass of wine or less so far, and that was Malfoy, who was only 3/4 of the way through his first glass. Hermione had drank less so far, but she didn't like the way it tasted, and was determined to avoid the flavor by taking small sips, not by downing each glass in two gulps, as Crabbe and Pansy had been doing for...wow, 4 glasses now. She let out a small laugh when she realized that what they were trying to do was drink a very tipsy-looking Goyle under the table, and he was maybe one drink away from falling off his chair. Malfoy glared when she giggled, and, for a split second, she considered sticking her tongue at him. _What a child._

After dinner, the tables disappeared, and several of the gentlemen, including two of Viktor's brothers and his father, assembled in the corner, and conjured instruments. First, Viktor's oldest sister performed a stunning ballet routine to "Fur Elise", followed by two absolutely adorable five-year-olds in little pink tutus running, jumping and spinning about to part of "Flight of the Bumblebee." Everyone clapped politely, and then the small orchestra struck up a lively waltz. Viktor took Hermione's hand and led her to the floor. _This is just like the Yule Ball_ she thought, remembering the dreamy, fairytale feeling she had gotten dancing with Viktor. She smiled at him, and for the first time in a week, he truly smiled back. They danced well together, remembering the steps perfectly. But, the next song brought trouble. He stepped on her toes, and she frowned. He frowned back; she gave him a questioning look. Through a series of miscommunicated facial expressions and gestures, Hermione felt by the end of the song distinctly put-out, at Viktor, and that Viktor was mad at her. She brusquely excused herself, under the pretext of getting drinks.

While she was at the fountain (literally, a small fountain, spewing drinks over in the corner), she thought and she sipped a glass of very odd-tasting punch. She decided to stop being mad at him, and try being more cautious of the signals she was sending him, confused as he probably was. But when she had finally pushed her way through the drunken waltzing couples, she saw something that nearly made her drop her glasses of punch: Pansy and Krum. Dancing. Together. Dancing _well_ together, to add insult to injury, better than how Hermione had danced with him. She marched up angrily, and snapped "here." She handed both drinks to a bewildered-looking Krum, and bolted for the door. All she knew was that he did not follow her; she didn't really care why. Thank goodness she didn't see him shrug, and give the second glass of punch to Pansy. Thank goodness she didn't also see them continue to dance once done with their drinks, smiling and laughing as if this had been going on for quite sometime. No, thank all goodness she didn't, or else Harry wouldn't have been the only one violating the Code for Underage Wizardry that summer, only she would have probably committed several other crimes as well.

No, instead, she stormed out through the open front door, and around to the back of the castle to the lake. She threw herself down at the base of a tree near the shore and wept bitterly for at least ten minutes. She then went to swearing and ranting, but, you know, quiet-like, so as not to attract attention. She hurled a rock at the lake, just for good measure, and then leaned back against the tree, somewhat relieved of her jealous anger. She closed her eyes and tried to review the situation in her normal, Hermione-Jane-Granger-fashion, which was logically, pragmatically, and NOT emotionally. Which only succeeded in making her more emotional and more pissed off. _How could he dance with that _cow she thought.

All of a sudden, she was aware that she was not alone at the tree. She heard laughing, and looked up and saw the worst possible person to see at this point in time, Malfoy, sitting on the branch right above her. She was too tired to play games, so she got right to the point, assessing the damage. "How much did you hear?"  
"From about 'rotten stupid slut' to 'two-timing bastard.' Then I started laughing so hard I could barely hear. I swear Granger, you're deaf when you're pissed, and completely foul mouthed." He laughed the whole time he was saying that, and also sounded more than a little slurred.  
"And you're stupid when you're drunk, but then again, that's not a variation from the norm, is it?" she said, but not a scathingly as she would like to have.  
"Pft, is that the best you can do? Please, you're not even trying." He noticed that too.  
"Has it occurred to you that I don't have time for you, Draco Malfoy?" There it was, a little better on the bitter.  
He climbed down clumsily from the tree, all the while saying, "you know what--ouch--Granger--oof--I think--owowow, stupid twig--you don't have time-thud! as he hit the ground-- for anyone." He plopped down next to her, uncomfortably close. "Maybe that's why your girlfriend's in there dancing with my boyfriend. Wait, no, other way about," he hiccuped as he made uncoordinated gestures with his hands, finally giving up with "you know what I mean, you know." He was sounding more drunk by the minute.  
"And you know what, all that stuff you said about them, I reckon...well I reckon it was funny...but, I reckon you were right." He punctuated that with another hiccup.  
Hermione rolled her eyes and groaned. That was the LAST thing she needed, was Malfoy agreeing with her. That meant all hope was lost.  
He was oblivious to such a devastating indicatior of doom. "You, know, I reckon...I reckon...we're too good for them, me and you. I'm too smart for that...whatever I wanna call her...and you're too smart and too pretty for that meathead...and I'm too pretty for Pansy too..." he trailed off again.  
She rolled her eyes further. She really hated people so drunk that they put their life on completely backwards. It was revolting. Hermione stuck her tongue out in disgust...which was exactly the same moment that Draco decided she was too pretty NOT to kiss, flopped over, and tried to plant one square on her mouth.


	6. To the Phoenix's Nest

Yay! Another one! Now please, I beg, don't forget about me. I'm rather pressed for time at the moment, but I'll try to update as soon as I can. Read and review, for it makes my heart so happy.

(Disclaimer, disclaimer, no ownage, blah blah blah.)

Oh, yes, and I also owe credit to the Shoebox Project (the most amazing fic EVER) and it's brilliant authors, Rave and Jaida Jones for the style of chapter introduction that I use. Go check them out, they rock.

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Chapter 6: To the Phoenix's Nest

_One Viktor-I-mean-it-this-time, one clumsy Auror, and a Weasley._

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_Guh?_ was the first thing that sprang to both Hermione and Draco's minds when they realized what exactly was going on. As if on cue, two sets of eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and there was a great deal of scuffling and scrambling up, which nearly resulted in Draco getting knocked out on a low tree limb and Hermione falling into the pond. They would have preferred those outcomes, so as to avoid the tense moment of disgusted staring that followed. Hermione wanted to say, no screech, 'did you just do what I think you did?', only she had a better idea.  
She took two steps up to the horrified Draco Malfoy and punched him square on the nose.  
His expression went from disgusted to dazed to blank as he fell backwards onto the grass, now unconscious. _I should definitely make that an end-of-the-year tradition _Hermione thought with a smirk, which, of course, quickly rolled back to disgust as she took another look at him. She strode back to the castle, feeling mixture of nausea and rage, neither of which would cause a good ending for Malfoy if she had stuck around to make sure he was ok or something like that. She needed to be away from him, _now_.

However, the sight that met her eyes once she had made her way back into the castle and up to the dance floor did _absolutely nothing_ to calm her nerves. No, I'd say the sight of Pansy kissing Viktor made the usually collected, non-impulsive Muggle-born only want to punch more things. And kick a few things too. Not even bothering with a 'what the hell?' she ran out of the Hall, crying the angriest tears of frustration she had cried so far in her young life (and remember, she friends with the Frustration Duo, Harry and Ron). Her head swam with venomous, confused, hurt, shocked and vengeful thoughts. If she wasn't still reeling somewhat from Draco's kiss, she would have pulled out her wand and gone to town on Viktor, who was following her now, making desperate apologies. His English became increasingly broken as he tried to explain how 'Pansy had kissed _him_!' and that he was 'in-non-cent' and that he was 'so sorry.'

Hermione reached her room, fury building and turned around and shrieked "It's already done Viktor! Just leave me alone!" She slammed the door in his face, and sank down against it, sobbing. She let herself only have a moment of self pity before she realized: she was in danger. Again. She knew that there was no love between her and Viktor, which meant his safety enchantment no longer worked. She hastily got up and started packing, furious process fueled by her fear of the Death Eaters and by her anger at Viktor. Her thoughts alternated between _I've got to get out of here_ and _That _cow_. THAT COW!!_ Within five minutes, everything was in her trunk, Crookshanks was (unwillingly) in his basket, and she was hauling ass out toward the door at the end of the children's wing. Viktor was following, trying to convince her to stay, an attempt somewhat disheartened by the sight of her packed trunks.

Finally, she stopped, inhaled deeply, and said, through gritted teeth, "look. I don't care who did it, I don't care why. All I know is that I'm not safe here anymore."  
Krum looked confused.  
"That's right," she snapped. "That little spell of yours? Well, considering the circumstances, is useless now. I need to leave."  
He looked astonished and hurt at this revelation. Her rage lessened momentarily, and she said in less angry way, "I'm sorry if this hurts you, but I must go. _Now._"  
He gave a slight, utterly miserable nod.

With that, she stalked out into the night.

After a moment's horrifying realization that she had not, for the first time in a long time, thought things out. But, that was quickly remedied. She confidently held her wand aloft, as Harry had told them was how he summoned the Knight Bus. She hoped desperately that there was a Bulgarian Knight Bus.

However, she didn't really get to contemplate it long, because she was tackled from behind and knocked roughly to the ground. Panic. That was about the only thing her emotionally tired brain could work up, and she wriggled fiercely, under the weight of someone who smelled oddly like lavender and clean, but old socks, whose hand with violent blue nails was pinning her wand arm to the ground by the wrist. "_Reducto!_" she tried to yell, but there was dirt in her mouth that had other plans; instead she shouted "_reddo" _which merely made orangey confetti come out of her wand. However, the person was already off of her and Hermione flipped around, wand at the ready, prepared to hex the hell out of whichever Death Eater had gotten her. However, the face she looked up at was anything but a Death Eater's; an innocent and slightly impressed smile beamed at her from under hot pink hair, and the face's owner was stretching out one hand to help the girl up. "Wotcher, Hermione," the smile said.

Determined not to be fooled by such a not-evil facade, Hermione ignored the hand and barked guardedly, "who are you?"

The person laughed and said, "sorry about that," and pulled Hermione up, whether or not she wanted it, and continued to talk. "Name's Tonks, I didn't mean to knock you down. I'm dead clumsy is all, knock everyone over all the time. Are you bleeding? No, that's good, just a bit dusty then--"

"I said, who are you?" Hermione repeated, cutting off the young woman's rambling.

"Tonks, like I said and--oh!" Comprehension dawned on Tonk's face. "Dumbledore didn't tell you did he?"  
"Tell me what?"  
"He changed his mind about you Flooing. Said it would be too conspicuous. So, I'm to take you by Side-Along Apparition back to Headquarters if anything goes south. Which," she explained as she pointed to Hermione's trunk, "looks to be the way things are going."  
Hermione was now completely bewildered. "Headquarters of what? The Ministry? And how did you know I needed help. And, I repeat, who are you?"  
"Dumbledore didn't tell you about the Order?"  
"What order?"  
"I can't explain here. Can you please just come with me?"  
"No."  
Tonks rolled her eyes and slipped something glinty out of her pocket. "Look." Hermione saw by the moonlight that it was Ministry of Magic badge, Auror certification. "You know that these can't be forged, I hear you're clever like that," Tonks informed her smugly. Hermione was forced to agree. "Is that enough?"  
Hermione wasn't keen to go off to some unknown location, but she was even less keen to stay here in the dark, outside of a castle full of known Death Eaters. So she formulated a test of her own. "Not yet. Answer me this: Has You-Know-Who truly returned?" she asked simply, face bold and knowing.  
"Yes." The look on Tonks' face was unmistakably, deadly serious. Hermione, now in possession of All the Evidence She Needed, grabbed Tonks' arm firmly, and the two left the Krum estate with a soft 'pop.'

_Three o'clock am, the next morning_

Hermione sat in the window seat of her room at Grimmauld Place, the fading moonlight paling her face, making the purple circles under her eyes more pronounced and frightening. Ginny sighed in her sleep in the bed next to the wall. Tonks shuffled in the room with a cup of steaming tea for Hermione. However, she couldn't manage to carry off shuffling _quietly_, as she knocked into Hermione's trunk and spilled half the tea onto the floor. Ginny sat up with a start. "Go back to sleep, Ginny," whispered Tonks, now trying to balance the tea while rubbing her stubbed toe. Ginny shrugged and lay back down placidly. Cursing under her breath, she hopped on one foot over to Hermione's spot, handed her what was left of the tea, and sat down on the floor at her feet. "Alright Hermione?" she whispered. Hermione nodded. Her mighty brain was on overload. In the past six hours, just six hours, she had gone through more, emotionally and mentally, than she usually did in a whole term at Hogwarts. She had made up with Viktor, broken up with Viktor, been kissed by Draco, Apparated, learned about a secret society formed to fight the Death Eaters, and told Dumbledore every detail she could remember from her visit. It was sort of staggering and she had about a thousand questions, yet she only had one pressing curiosity.  
"Tonks, how did Dumbledore know I needed help?"  
Tonks just shrugged. "I don't know. I reckon he's got a system that says when any of us need help, because I've been in a fair number of jams myself and then, 'pop', someone's there to help. Like Molly says, he doesn't miss a trick, that man."  
Hermione nodded in agreement, and looked out the window.  
A stray cat ran daringly across the street. An owl swooped down and then flew off with something small and wiggling in its beak. Watching these mundane things made Hermione feel extraordinary. She knew know that that cat was possibly McGonagall, out on an errand for the Order. That owl could be winging its way toward another Member with an exciting new mission, and needed a snack before its long flight. She already knew the world wasn't the same; it hadn't been since June. But now there was a new thrill, a new secret.


	7. Train of Fools

Chapter 7: Train of Fools

I'm baaaa-aaack!! Well, I changed my name to something more contemporary (to me, but completely meaningless to you, I'm okay with that), but it's me, your old buddy _insertfancoupleusernamehere_. Good to be back now, on the interwebs...

Anyway, I still don't have a lot of time to write this story, but I think I have more than I did last summer (which is why it died). Well, go back, re-read, get refreshed and dive in.

Okay, so the absolutely amazing thing about this post is that I wrote the intro to it almost a year and half ago, but didn't keep any other notes about it. And by amazing, I mean annoying. So here is what has clawed its way out of my murky memory and grown into a whole new beast. As ever, read, react, and reply, and as always, enjoy.

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_One damn cat, two unnecessary apologies, and one familiar scarlet steam engine._

_Get me out of here_ was the look on every face in the prefect compartment as McGonagall's annual letter to the prefects was read by a very snippy piece of worn parchment. Malfoy scanned the room, glad to see he wasn't the only one feeling this way…stuffing twenty-odd people into a twelve-person capacity compartment was completely ridiculous…but it must be borne…prefects duties and all. He hadn't heard a single word of the letter. He was too busy examining faces when not mentally complaining. He made another scan of the room, making special note of the prefects in his year. _Abbot and Macmillan_…he held back a smile, remembering the first few weeks of 1st year, wherein he had swindled Ernie out of his pocket money almost daily…the fool hadn't cottoned on until Malfoy had told him that he needed train money to go see a relative in Montreal. If the boys hadn't been standing near the map in Binns' room, he probably could have kept the rouse up until Christmas. Then there was Goldstein and Patil. Padma was actually quite a stunning creature, as evinced by her Yule Ball appearance the previous year and Malfoy did like twins…but there was no way he would touch them. Actually, it was more of a _couldn't_ than _wouldn't,_ but certainly wasn't worth the effort in any case. He glanced at Pansy, whom he had had quite enough of over the summer…he hated the stupid bird most of the time, but she had her uses. _Like catching the mice_ he thought, extremely amused at his own wit. Finally, there was Granger, no surprises there, she had had it coming since 1st year, but then _Weasely_, _of all people? Of course, leave it to Dumbledore to choose a Mudblood and a blood traitor to represent his former house, although he couldn't have picked better for Slytherin, of course…_

"Any questions?" barked the Head Boy. The sudden change which voice was addressing the room popped Malfoy out of his revery, briefly. He then went back to his thoughts, now examining the ceiling and wondering how old this clattering, piece-of-junk train actually was. He was somewhat surprised to look down a few minutes later and find the compartment empty. Well almost. Someone was leaning out the door, in very familiar and bossy tones telling someone else to go on ahead, she'd just be a moment. The bushy mass of hair turned then back into the car, and then the hands attached to its body slid the door closed. She looked up with a determined face, but once her eyes met his, she immediately lost her nerve.

"Look," she began, looking down and fiddling with her sleeve. "About what happened this summer…" Before she could begin again, he cut her off. "What?" He looked up to the ceiling again, impatient for this awkward exchange to end.  
"What do you mean what?" she snapped. Here she was, trying to be nice…

"I have no idea what you're on about, Granger."

She flicked her wand and the blinds of the compartment snapped shut. "I mean about what happened, to us, over the summer…" she started mean but then became timid again, and ducked her had before cautiously looking up for a sign he took her meaning. But there was none.

"As far as I know, the only thing that happened this summer was that I had the displeasure of failing to enjoy your company for a week and a half."

Hermione grew obviously more flustered. "No, I mean about—"

"Ah," he said, "I assume you're talking about the incident wherein your boyfriend stole my girlfriend—"

"I believe it was the other way about."

"I believe it wasn't," he said with finality.

"Well, about that, I'm just sorry that it happened to you, because, you know" she stammered, "it happened to me."

"What do you want Granger?" he said, staring her down. It was not the response she had wanted at all, and she took a step back. "I mean, really, why are you _here_? Do you need a shoulder to cry on? Come to offer me one? Well thanks but no."

He was about to turn around and flop down on the seat behind him, but then he had a better idea. Taking advantage of her current defensive role in the conversation, he decided to play the torture angle. He took a step into her, and she stepped back. "Or," he stepped again, the corners of his mouth turning up, "are you looking for a different body part than a shoulder?" He lowered his head so that he was looking over the tops of his eyes at her. "Arms to be wrapped up in because you're so cold and lonely?" He gave a sarcastic pout, and with one more step, had her backed against the closed door. "Or maybe lips to kiss and make all better." He gave her a sinister smile, stepped in so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. He raised his arms and put his palms on the wall on either side of her, trapping her. "Or maaaaybe," he drawled, leaning in so that his lips brushed her ear, "your interests lie a bit more…_south_?" And much to his surprise, he felt her fingertips on the hem of his pocket. She walked them up to one of his belt-loops, and gave it a little tug, then over to the button of his fly. "Yes," she murmured, "that is _exactly_ where they lie."

And with that she curled her fingers around the hem of his pants and yanked upward, and before he could adequately deal with the surprise and resultant pain of this move, she pointed the tip of her wand and his chest and declared "_Bombarda!_" Malfoy hurtled back into the couch, and smacked his head on the window. "Unbelievable," she said. "That couldn't have worked any better." And with that she disappeared from the compartment, laughing victoriously. Sprawled painfully over the seat, Malfoy managed to get out a "_bitch_" before passing into unconsciousness.

**********************************************

Moments later, Hermione was catching up to Ron in the hall, straightening her prefect's badge and grinning. "We best change into our robes and go on," she said busily, trying to give no hint that anything out of the ordinary happened. They turned into the empty Gryffindor compartment, and Hermione shut the door and Ron began tugging off his polo, while Hermione took off her hoodie. It wasn't until Hermione was sliding off her own polo that Ron realized the impropriety of the situation. "Umm—uhh, Hermione, eerrr" he stammered. "Just turn and face that wall Ronald," she said, herself already facing the other side of the compartment.

"Er, righto, sorry 'bout that, just sorry, that err…" he said

"It's quite alright Ronald, you only saw my undershirt. I daresay you've seen me in worse states of undress." She thought of a swimming incident the previous year at the Borrow wherein her top had gotten away from her, much to the attention of all the Weasely brothers, except Percy, that is. However, the moment was short-lived, as Fred took the opportunity to pants Charley, who had been doing chin-ups on a branch overhanging the pond.

"Err right…" he said with a nervous laugh, then a greater laugh because he too had thought about Fred's pantsing of Charley, and then Charley nearly drowning him in return. Hermione had already finished buttoning her top, and as she was already wearing her uniform skirt, and so needed only to pull on her robes and tie her tie. Being the clever witch she was, though, she pulled a pre-tied tie from her pocket and slipped it over her head. Ron tapped her on the shoulder, and looked pathetically at her, tie in the other hand. She rolled her eyes and threw her pre-tied one over his head, and began tied his around her neck. She buttoned up her robes, pinned on her badge, and then reached up to remove a hissing Crookshanks from its basket. "Hermione no!" Ron yelped.

"Ronald, what is the matter with you?" she demanded.

"Just let it be, please Hermione, just let it go until we get to school. I don't want that mangy beast out, it'll claw my damn face off! You know it will," he pleaded.

"Fine," she relented. "But Pig better stay in that cage too."  
"Suits me fine," Ron agreed dismissively.  
"Here," she said, straightening his tie and badge. "That's better."

And with that, they strolled out into the corridor, both having lost the contest to see who was brave enough to bring up Hermione's clandestine meeting with Malfoy. No, they instead both decided to let it linger between them, to be addressed with much more consternation and grief, at a later date.


End file.
